


Ciryc Ca'tra (Cold Night Sky)

by brianmay_be



Series: Jate'kara (Lucky Stars) [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (for the ice spiders - reader is very much not into it), Adorable Grogu | Baby Yoda, Angst, Angst and Romance, Arachnophobia, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s02e02 The Passenger, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Marriage, Married Couple, Married Life, Panic Attacks, Parenthood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Din Djarin, Romantic Fluff, basically this is a rewrite of s2e2 with reader as din's wife :), but din is such a good husband, but his parents love him anyways, every mandalorian term of endearment i can come up with, grumpy din, he's very stressed :(, reader is going through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianmay_be/pseuds/brianmay_be
Summary: Grief seemed to settle heavy on your shoulders, and you took your husband’s hand. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, trying to comfort you, to say all the things that neither of you could bear to voice.or;When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask to find the Frog Lady's husband and more Mandalorians, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Reader, Din Djarin & You, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Jate'kara (Lucky Stars) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178801
Comments: 14
Kudos: 176





	1. Crash Landing

You came to consciousness with a jolt, hands shaking and head pounding as you tried to orient yourself. You were in the cockpit of the Crest - you knew that much. It was cold - _freezing_ \- and much too quiet; electricity sparked and alarms warbled with blinking lights all over the instrument panels. 

“Din,” you said weakly. You closed your eyes for a moment as a wave of dizziness overcame you.

You heard the turn of the pilot’s chair, felt Din’s gloved hands on your face. “Cyar’ika. I'm here.”

You opened your eyes and his helm came into focus; you leaned forward and rested your head against his for a moment.

“What happened?” you asked.

He shook his head. “We fell through the ice. I think I passed out when I hit the dash - I don’t know how long it’s been since - ”

A feeble groan came from the opposite side of the cockpit, and both you and Din looked over. 

“Oh, Din,” you said, needlessly urging him to help. The frog lady had fallen; Din helped her back into her chair, nodding at her urgent croaking.

“I’ll find your eggs, don’t worry,” he assured her, knowing despite the language barrier what she was worried about. You felt a sudden wave of panic and guilt - where was _your_ baby?

You stood, a little too quickly - you had to brace yourself on the instrument panel for a second as the dizziness passed. 

“Easy, cyare,” Din said, reaching a hand out to steady you. “I think you hit your head when we fell.”

That would explain the dull pounding, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care what had happened to you.

“Din, the baby,” you said, looking up at him.

“I know,” he said, assuring you that he was just as aware and just as worried. He opened the cockpit door and jumped down to the second level. You followed down the ladder a little more carefully, and you felt his hands on your waist as he helped you down.

At the bottom of the ladder, both of you stood stunned, in utter disbelief at the wreckage of your home. Snow and icy wind were streaming in through the hole punched clean through the side of the ship; everything that had been stowed neatly was strewn across the floor, broken, covered in snow. Cut wires sparked and hung menacingly over it all.

“Damn it,” he said quietly.

Grief seemed to settle heavy on your shoulders, and you took your husband’s hand. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, trying to comfort you, to say all the things that neither of you could bear to voice. He turned to press the access button for your bunk; as the door slid open, you scanned the entirety of the small space looking for the baby.

“Where is he, Din?” you asked, icy fear gripping you when you couldn’t find him. You had worried he might have fallen from his hammock, but for him to be _gone_ \- 

“Stay here,” Din said, briefly touching his hand to your torso to make you stay put. The frog lady’s worried pleas echoed from the cockpit, and Din looked upwards.

“Hang on, I’m looking for your eggs,” he called. He carefully made his way through the wreckage, looking this way and that for any sign of the eggs or the baby.

He lifted a tarp, and you saw the tension bleed out of him and heard a little coo of protest. You put a hand to your chest reflexively, willing your pulse to slow now that you knew where your foundling was.

“No!” Din said, in his scolding voice. You watched as he picked up the frog lady’s eggs and looked back down at the baby. “I told you not to do that.”

You gave him a questioning look, but before he could answer, the frog lady called again.

“Found them!” Din said. He looked back at the baby. “How many did you eat?”

 _Oh, not again,_ you thought. Din scooped the baby up and brought him over to you, and you held him tight and kissed his ears despite Din’s recent scolding.

“You’re ok, ad’ika,” you said soothingly, more for yourself than for him. He cuddled close to you for warmth and looked up at his father with a cautious gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Din said. He pointed to the eggs in the chamber. “I told you no. No more.”

The baby gave a disappointed coo. Satisfied he’d made his point for now, Din sighed and patted the baby’s head.

“Stay here with mom, and be good.” He looked at you. “I’m going to take these up to her, and then try to patch up down here. You should stay in the bunk to keep warm.”

You fished one of the blankets out and handed it to him. “Bring that up to her.”

He nodded and tossed it over his arm, his free hand hovering protectively as you climbed into the bunk with the baby. You wrapped both of you in a blanket, holding him close to your chest; you leaned your head against the side of the bunk to try and ease some of the ache on the cool metal.

The baby babbled in greeting when Din came back down, and Din offered a small wave hello as he went searching through the mess for his toolbox. You could tell he was getting increasingly more frustrated with every upturned box and sparking cable; his body language said as much, and a clipped, quiet curse would come through the modulator every so often.

Eventually he found what he was looking for, and he tacked up a tarp over the hole in the siding. That at least stopped the wind from blowing snow in with every gust, but it was still cold; your breaths came in little clouds as you watched Din try to set the ship to rights again, at least on the inside. You asked if he needed help, feeling guilty for staying in the bunk while he was doing all the work, but he assured you he would rather you rest and stay with the baby.

For his part, the baby fell asleep, too cold for his usual wandering. You started to feel restless as your headache subsided and the full magnitude of your situation weighed on you. You carefully laid the baby on the bunk, wrapping him up in the blanket that still held your warmth, and closed the hatch.

Din looked up from his tinkering. “You should be resting, cyare.”

You shook your head and minded the low-hanging cables as you came over to him, resting your hands on his shoulders. He’d been kneeling on the unforgiving metal floor for half an hour, hunched over a panel on the carbonite system. You kneaded your hands into his tense muscles; you knew it wouldn’t do much, through the fabric of his cloak and the straps of his breastplate, but he sighed and relaxed a little nonetheless.

“It’s leaking fluid,” he said, gesturing to the carbonite system. “Which isn’t that pressing, all things considered, but it’s the only thing I know how to fix right now.”

You leaned to press a kiss to his helm. “I know, honey,” you said. You knew he was frustrated and overwhelmed with all the work to be done, and you also knew he was doing his very best to fix things. 

He leaned back on his heels. “I can’t do anything on the outside yet,” he continued, the words tumbling out of him like he’d been trying to come up with an explanation or justification for why things weren’t fixed yet. “I don’t think the ice has settled, and I don’t want to make us sink further. The generator and acceleration chamber are probably the worst hit, but I can’t even find the right tools in all this mess.”

“Hey,” you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. “You’re doing the best you can, Din. Nobody could ask more of you.”

He stood, a little abruptly, and you stepped back to give him space. He turned but didn’t say anything for a moment.

“We’re stranded on a frozen planet,” he said finally, his voice flat. “I have none of the tools I need to make a proper repair of the Crest. I have you and the baby to think of, not to mention another passenger and _her_ babies, which can probably survive less of the cold than we can. It’s only going to get colder when night falls, and there’s nothing I can do to generate heat with the main power drive out.”

You felt more discouraged with each of the problems he listed, but you didn’t like his tone. You’d known him to tend towards pessimism, but this defeatist attitude certainly wasn’t going to help anything.

“I know all that,” you said, looking up at his visor with what little defiance you could muster. “You don’t have to lecture me, Din. I’m an adult, and I can see for myself that we’re in a tight spot.”

“I’m not _lecturing_ you,” he said, irritated. “I’m trying to make you understand that we’re not getting out of this with a little luck and elbow grease. I can’t even start _looking_ at what needs to be repaired until morning.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, cold and defensive. “Fine,” you said, painfully aware of how quickly your nerves and tempers were fraying with each other. “You’ve made me understand. Check that off your list.”

“That’s not - ” He gave a frustrated huff. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I didn’t come over here to fight, Din. I was trying to be nice, and you - ”

“I don’t _need_ nice right now, cyare,” he shot back.

You flinched a little at the way he’d flung the name back at you. “Don’t call me that when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” he insisted, though it wasn’t very convincing. “I just wish you’d - ”

“What?” you demanded. “Wish I would what? Help? Fine.”

You felt your own guilt at not helping earlier resurface, and you started in on the pile of disorganized storage and little pieces of wreckage that he’d pushed to the side earlier to clear space. It was a mess, and much of it was broken; you reached your hand into a smaller pile of debris and felt a sharp pain in your ring finger.

“Dank farrik,” you bit out, quickly snatching your hand back and seeing a bright rivulet of blood down the length of your finger. You stuck it in your mouth and avoided looking at your husband.

“Let me see,” he said, sticking his hand out. You reluctantly placed your hand in his, wincing a little when he turned your hand to see better, even as gentle as his touch was.

“Sorry,” he said. He studied the cut for a moment. “It doesn’t look too bad. Let me get a bandage.”

He rifled around until he found a med-kit; he took off his gloves and let you rest your hand on his open palm while he dabbed antiseptic on the cut and wrapped a small bandage around it.

“There,” he said. He ran his thumb over your palm in a gesture of tenderness, and you felt the sting of tears.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you,” he said gently. “I was frustrated, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Please forgive me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, but you couldn’t stop a few tears from falling. You tried to brush them away before he noticed, but Din was nothing if not observant.

“Hey, cyar’ika,” he said, worried. “Does it hurt that bad?”

“No,” you said honestly, quickly brushing the tears from your face. “I’m just...” 

You were embarrassed by your outburst and the stupid way you’d hurt yourself; you were tired and achy and worried, and fighting with Din had been the worst part of it all.

“Of course I forgive you,” you said, your voice a little wobbly. “I’m sorry too.”

He sighed and rested his helm against your head for a moment, a brief kiss. “The only way we’re going to get out of here is if we work together.”

You nodded. “What do you need me to do? How can I help?”

He released your hands to put his gloves back on. “I need you to watch the baby and make sure our friend has everything she needs, for her and her eggs. Food, too - it probably got thrown all over storage, but we’ll need something to eat.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “I can do that. What are you going to do?”

He sighed. “I’m going to try and patch up the holes in the hull, just so we don’t freeze to death before we even get started on the major repairs. Then maybe take a look at the cockpit and see if anything still turns on.”

As if to punctuate his point about freezing to death, a sudden shiver went through you; he reached out to rub his hands up and down your arms to create a little heat.

“Get my spare cloak for yourself, cyare,” he said. “And try and find some extra blankets, if you can.”

You lightly kissed his visor, then rubbed it with your sleeve so it wasn’t blurry. His laugh came through the modulator and made you smile.

“Did I just hear Din Djarin laugh?” you teased. “Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

He gave a hum of agreement and brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Only because you’re here.”

He touched a hand to the bottom of his visor, a shorthand he’d come up with when you first started courting, like blowing you a kiss. He went up the second level to check the hull; you unearthed the chest of your clothes from underneath the debris, careful of any more broken objects, and found his spare cloak to wrap around your shoulders.

After you’d found the extra blankets and given one to the frog lady, for which she croaked her thanks, you set yourself to the task of organizing the wrecked storage room. It was on the second level, past the carbonite storage area, and you were glad you didn’t have to walk past any grisly frozen figures to get to it. You’d endured plenty during Din’s bounty hunter days, and you often found yourself grateful that those were over.

You found enough food for a meal or two, more if you stretched. You had been intending to resupply when you reached Trask, and you didn’t know now how long it would take to get there. You prepared something simple for dinner - with no power, you couldn’t make much use of your little kitchenette on the wall of the storage room - and took it back downstairs, asking the frog lady to join you.

You could hear the baby talking to himself when you came back down, and after handing your guest her food, you opened the door to the bunk and were greeted by a toothy smile.

“Hello, my love,” you cooed. He gave you uppy arms and you scooped him up, holding him close; he gently tugged on a clawful of your hair and babbled happily at you.

“Yes, I know,” you said. “You’re so happy after your nap, aren’t you? Are you hungry?”

He cast a longing look at the glass chamber holding the eggs, and you frowned.

“No,” you said. “You remember daddy said no. Besides, I made you some dinner you’ll like very much.”

You set him down on a storage box and handed him his little plate of food; he gave a happy coo and contentedly had his dinner. Satisfied he would stay put, you went back up to look for Din.

It didn’t take long to find him; a steady stream of Mandalorian curses were coming from behind the cockpit doors. You felt sympathetic for his frustration and amused at his language, which he usually rarely indulged in, and opened the doors to find your husband flipping every switch on the panels trying to get something to work.

“Osik’la skanah,” he growled, jamming a button with a little more force than necessary.

“I’m guessing that’s not a phrase I should use talking to any other Mandalorians,” you said. 

He turned in the pilot’s chair, cocking his head at you. He sighed. 

“No, probably not,” he admitted.

“Tell me what it means, though.” You leaned in conspiratorially. “I like to learn new ways to curse.”

He gave a dry laugh. “It’s not really a curse. More like - junk. Useless, messed up junk.”

You grimaced. “That good, huh?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what I expected. We took damage when we hit the ice shelf, and then we took even worse damage when we fell through the ice. I can’t get anything but the filtration system and emergency lights to come on.”

You sighed. “Well, those are both things we need, and they would be very hard to go without. We can be thankful we have those.”

He shook his head. “I know you’re right, but I can’t see past all the other damage. I have no idea how I’m going to fix the Crest with what I have.”

You put a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. “You know more about this ship than anyone, Din. And you know more about spaceship mechanics than most technicians. You’ll figure something out. I have complete confidence in you.”

His shoulders fell. “Thank you, cyare,” he said sincerely. “That... means a lot. Really.”

You smiled, pleased you had encouraged him, at least a little bit. 

“Come on,” you said, taking his hand and pulling him out of the cockpit before he got fed up with any more switches or buttons. “There’s dinner, and your son’s probably trying to use his powers to get into the tank of eggs for dessert.”


	2. Honoring One's Word

You ate with little regard for what you were actually tasting - it was nearly frozen anyways, and the things in the very back of your storage shelves were always the highly nutritive but relatively tasteless rations. They worked in a pinch, and you and Din had had your fair share of them in his bounty hunter days, but since then you’d made it a point to provide your family with balanced, flavorful meals with as much fresh produce as you could get your hands on. You felt that your husband’s current mood could be significantly improved by something warm and hearty to eat, and wished there was something you could do to ease his frustration.

As it was, Din took his dinner upstairs so he could take off his helmet and look for a missing tool while he was at it. You collected the empty plates when the baby and the frog lady had finished, and bumped into your husband on your way to put them back in storage.

“Just me,” you called before you rounded the corner, not wanting him to have to go through the trouble of quickly putting his helm back on. You saw he had been about to, but set the helmet back down on the shelf he was leaning against.

“Did you find what you needed?” you asked, unconsciously avoiding looking in his direction. Even after all this time, you still had to overcome the tiniest bit of awkwardness to look at him without his mask, especially if you weren’t there when he took it off. It felt a bit like walking in on him undressing - not unwelcome, but perhaps a moment where he had wanted privacy even from his wife and one that made you want to ask for permission to look.

“No,” he said. “It was a long shot anyways. I haven’t used it in ages, and it’s probably either stuck somewhere I’d never find it or long gone.”

He watched you put the dishes in the sink, running a little bit of water over them - the pipes were nearly frozen, and only a small stream of water came from the faucet.

“We should keep it running a little,” you said, setting the dishes to dry. “That way, maybe the pipes won’t freeze over completely.”

He hummed in agreement. Then, “Cyar’ika. Look at me.”

You did as he said, turning from the sink to meet his eyes. He gave you a smile, gentle and amused.

“Still gets you sometimes, hm?”

You blushed. “Sometimes.”

He brought his plate over to the sink and stood close to you, studying you with those warm brown eyes always so full of kindness. 

“I remember how you could barely look at me on our wedding night,” he said, his voice fond at the memory. “You were so embarrassed; you kept apologizing, stammering and blushing like you’d done something wrong.”

You smiled too, recalling how patient he’d been with you. “I felt like I had,” you said, in defense of your younger self. “As much as I wanted to see you, I had spent so long looking away if you needed to take your helmet off that I felt guilty for looking that night.”

You reached up to brush back his curls. “I’d spent our entire courtship wondering what you looked like,” you said, now freely looking over his beloved features. They had been so beautiful but so new to you that night, like a gift you’d been admonished not to open and suddenly had given to you, and you hadn’t quite known if you were allowed to have it yet.

“And you were so horrified by what you saw that you couldn’t stand the sight of me,” Din teased, his smile on your cheek as he kissed it gently. “Tried to figure out a way to get out of marrying me.”

You laughed at the utter absurdity of it, putting your arms around his neck and letting him hold you close. He had been the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, with those dark eyes and his messy curls and his gentle smile. Every time he took off his helmet, you remembered how enchanted and lovesick you’d been on your wedding night and felt like you were a new bride all over again, seeing your husband for the first time.

“Too bad I’ve been stuck with you all this time,” you teased. “And now we have a baby... I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

He chuckled as he nosed against your jaw. “Not even if you tried, riduur.”

You loved it when he called you that - _wife_ , in his native tongue, a remembrance of your love-bond, your marriage vows. You let him hold you for a moment, comforted by how solid and steady his beskar felt and warmed by his kisses on your face.

“Come down when you can,” you said softly. “It’s lonely without you.”

He smiled. “You have the baby.”

“And he’s much too busy looking at those eggs to care about his mother.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, we need to keep an eye on that.” He pulled away from you, but not before giving you one last kiss.

“I’m going to try one more place to find that tool,” he said. “If it’s not there, it’d probably best that we all just... try and get some rest.”

You could hear the weight of your predicament bleed back into his voice, but you tried to be cheerful.

“Go look and see,” you said. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find it.”

He started to smile before he put the helmet back on, and you knew he still had a wry quirk to his mouth under the beskar.

“Maybe,” he agreed.

You came back down to the first level to see your foundling happily babbling away to the frog lady, who was returning his chatter with gentle croaks you could only describe as motherly. You smiled to yourself as you set about trying to make comfortable sleeping arrangements; Din had said he wanted to sleep outside of your bunk just as a precaution, in case the patching came undone or there was some unwelcome intrusion. You thought any sort of creature who lived on such an inhospitable planet would not be one you wanted to meet, and you appreciated your husband’s foresight in being where he could most readily protect those in his care.

As warm as your bunk would be, you didn’t really like the idea of sleeping without your husband beside you - it had been a long time since you’d slept alone. But you knew he would insist, and so you made up the bunk with as little as you could in order to give Din the extra blankets.

He came down without the tool he’d been searching for, as both of you had guessed he would, and made a quick check of the space before turning to the three of you.

“If you hadn’t guessed, we’re in a tight spot,” he said, mostly to the frog lady. He sounded discouraged and tired. “The main power drive is not responding, and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls.”

He paused and looked around the ship, the one he’d called home long before you and the baby had, and you felt a wave of grief on his behalf.

“In the morning, I can have a better look at the outside of the ship,” he continued. “I’ll have a better idea of our prospects at that time.”

You saw the baby give a great big yawn for such a little thing, and picked him up to take him to bed. Din leaned down to touch his helm to your head and brush a gloved hand over the baby’s ear, a silent wish for good sleep and pleasant dreams for both of you, and hunkered down onto the makeshift pallet on the ship’s floor.

The frog lady started to croak a little frantically, and you looked over as you tucked the baby in. You could read the exhaustion and confusion in Din’s body language as he tried to parse what she was saying, but eventually he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, lady, I don’t understand frog,” he said tiredly. “Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep.”

Din crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, looking far from comfortable, but you knew he’d fallen asleep in a soldier’s slump like that more times than he could count. You climbed into bed and tucked the baby against your side, singing a very soft lullaby to him that Din had taught you.

“ _Ka’ra laararir gar jate ca_ ,” you sang. _The stars sing you goodnight_. You brushed a finger over his ear and he curled close to you, giving a sleepy coo as he closed his eyes and listened to your voice. You kissed his head before you laid your own head down. You listened to the faint sound of Din’s gentle snores through his modulator, and your own exhaustion quickly caught up to you as you lay with your baby in your arms.

“Wake up, Mandalorian.”

You jolted awake at the horrible voice, immediately moving your body to shield the baby before you even knew what the danger was. You saw Din with his blaster drawn, aimed across at the droid slung up in parts on the wall; his whole body was tense, fearful, angry. Your heart raced in your chest as you waited in silence for him to tell you what to do, explain what was going on.

“This cannot wait until morning,” the droid said, its lifeless, metallic voice filling the ship. You _hated_ that droid, and had begged Din countless times to get rid of it. You had thought he would be even more keen than you to be rid of it, considering his distrust of droids, but it had stayed hung up on the wall in a tangle of broken parts and frayed wires. In the past you had mitigated the unease it brought you by reminding yourself that it was basically scrap metal, and you were filled with horror at the thought that it had now somehow come to life and started speaking.

“Do not be alarmed,” it continued, though it had the opposite effect. “I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.”

Only then did you notice the frog lady, who was standing by the droid holding a comlink that connected to the droid’s head on a wire. Was she speaking through the droid?

Your husband seemed to come to the same realization, and after a glance your way to make sure you were alright, he put his blaster away. His shoulders retained their tense wariness, and his voice was strained with a panicked sort of ire.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. His chest plate rose and fell with his deep, unsteady breaths, and you knew he was still shaken up by the fright of being woken by the droid’s voice.

“That droid is a killer,” he said, and you could not mistake the bitterness and hatred in his voice. You wished you could comfort him, somehow, but knew he would feel more at ease with you and the baby at a safe distance from the droid, even if it was only the frog lady speaking through it.

“These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle,” the droid - or the frog lady - said. You could hear her croaking under the ringing sound of the droid’s voice. “My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to.”

She fell silent and waited for Din to speak, as did you. You understood her fears and empathized with her need to insist upon help - you’d challenge a Mandalorian too, if your baby’s life depended on it. But you also understood how very slim your chances truly were on this frozen planet, and you didn’t know what could be done that hadn’t been done already, unless Din was willing to put himself and the ship at even greater risk for the chance of repair.

Din sighed. “Look, lady, the deal is off,” he said, and you were reminded of how brusque he’d been before you really got to know him, and how that same bluntness tended to resurface when he was stressed. “We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives.”

The frog lady stood her ground. “I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code,” the droid said for her. “I guess those are just stories for children.”

You bit your lip, feeling her words like a wound, and you were sure Din felt it even more than you did. Din was _trying_ \- he wouldn’t break a promise if he could help it. His honor as a Mandalorian, as a man, meant everything to him. You knew Din had been wrestling with feelings of uselessness and incompetence since the checkpoint with the New Republic pilots had gone bad, and you knew how much he hated not being able to fix everything and protect everyone and make good on every single one of his promises. He was a Mandalorian, and if couldn’t fix things, he didn’t deserve the beskar he wore. 

At least, that was his thinking, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that the frog lady’s accusations were only making that clearer to him. You wanted to defend him, but you didn’t know what you’d say; you also knew that even if Din would have appreciated your support, he was perfectly capable of fighting his own battles. So, out of respect for his dignity and with confidence in his good sense, you waited for him to act.

He stood and grabbed his toolbox.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” he said, though you knew his voice better than anyone and could tell it was more tiredness and frustration with himself than any malice directed at her. He cast a glance your way, and you nodded to tell him you and the baby were alright, that he didn’t need to worry about you on top of everything else. He gave a brief nod back and lifted the tarp to head out into the unforgiving cold.


	3. Missing Passenger

You couldn’t get back to sleep.

You tried - your whole body ached with exhaustion, and you knew you _should_ rest - but you were too rattled by the scare with the droid and too worried about Din out in the cold. You tried to find something more productive to do than fret, but the baby had slept through everything, and there was very little to do when you weren’t chasing him around the ship. You’d already organized and cleaned everything you could; there really was nothing to do but wait.

For the sake of your sanity - and Din’s, as you knew an anxious wife was absolutely the last thing he needed right now - you decided on a shower. The refresher was outfitted with a regular shower as well as a sonic; you’d be using the latter, considering the fact that there was no heat on the Crest at the moment. Neatly folding Din’s spare cloak and putting the rest of your clothes in the laundry basket in the refresher, you stepped into the sonic and let the thing work its magic.

The state of the refresher when you’d first come aboard the Crest was... abysmal, to put it honestly. It told you all you needed to know about the Mandalorian bounty hunter you’d met when he arrived in your small town deep in the hills of Naboo: he was used to being alone, and very unfamiliar with a woman’s company. When you started working for him and living on the ship - he’d needed your help finding a man who used to live in your town - you’d asked if there was any way to at least have a _door_ on the blasted thing. He readily complied, and with the help of a few of the handyman types in your community, the Crest’s refresher was sorted out in no time, and more elaborately than you’d hoped for. 

The sonic was made to be used with or without water, and warm lights adorned the new mirror above the sink. Best of all, there was a sliding door - much like the one on the bunk, which had been expanded slightly in all the renovation. Until you were married - only a short while after you came to work for him, as you’d both fallen head over heels in a matter of weeks - Din had slept on the reclining passenger seat in the cockpit. You’d always considered that likely miserable sleeping arrangement and the new refresher his very first love-gifts to you, and you knew you would always cherish his selflessness and generosity.

Clean and a little less wired after the sonic, you quickly put on new clothes and wrapped yourself back in Din’s cloak. You went to check on the baby, sure he was still sleeping; to your dismay and instant panic, your little foundling was nowhere to be found among the blankets you’d nestled him in earlier.

“Ad’ika!” you called, searching through the ship like Din had earlier. Your little one was an escape artist, that much you’d known from the very beginning. Usually it was of little consequence - there were only so many places he could go on the ship, and you or Din found him contentedly playing with his silver ball or some other toy he’d fashioned. But here, with the temperature dropping and the wreckage everywhere and only the tarp between the ship and the icy world outside - you _had_ to find him.

Your panic grew to a fever pitch as you searched the ship high and low, calling for him with an increasingly desperate tone. Finally, positive he wasn’t anywhere on the Crest, you ventured outside; snowdrifts piled across the rocky ground, and the air was bitterly cold. Heedless of your own safety, you searched around the wreckage of the ship, calling for him as you felt the sting of tears.

“Cyar’ika!”

You heard Din’s voice calling you from the other side of the ship, and you made your way to him as quickly as you could. Surely Din would know where your baby was, and if he didn’t, he would know where to look. As you rounded the corner, you almost couldn’t make him out as tears blurred your vision. You tried to collect yourself before you told him - what, that you’d lost your son? That you’d had _one_ job and couldn’t even keep your toddler safe?

Your distress must have shown on your face, because Din reached a consoling hand out to you and met you halfway as you walked through the snow towards him. You prepared to tell him, to beg for his forgiveness and help - 

Then, wrapped in the corner of Din’s cloak and nestled snugly in the crook of his arm, your baby peeked out at you and gave a babble of greeting.

“Oh, Maker,” you gasped, the words coming out like a sob. You reached out for him and Din gave him to you; you held him tight as tears streamed down your face.

“Don’t _ever_ do that to me again,” you said, shoulders shaking as you tried to get a hold of yourself. You felt Din’s hand on your back, drawing you close against him; you let him hold you, the baby pressed safely between you.

“It’s ok, cyare,” Din soothed, running his hand up and down your back. 

You gave a hitching breath. “It’s _not_ ok, Din,” you insisted. “I thought he was - ”

You couldn’t make yourself say it, and felt a flash of anger at your husband that you knew was misdirected, but you didn’t know what to do with the guilt and fear that still ran through you.

“You knew where he was this whole time?” you snapped, looking up at his visor. Your tears were cold on your cheeks, and you angrily brushed them away. “How long was he out here with you, while I was worried sick looking for him?”

Din held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “No, I didn’t know he was out here,” he said, determinedly calm and patient. “I only just found him, and I’d just finished getting onto him when I heard you calling for him. I was coming to take him to you, cyare.”

You knew he was telling you the truth - he’d never do something like that to you. You didn’t know what to say, ashamed that you’d accused him of letting you worry needlessly when he’d actually been doing all he could to prevent that.

“S-sorry,” you managed brokenly. You could see your vague reflection in the planes of his helmet, tearful and small and overrun with emotion.

He sighed and drew you close to him again. “I know,” he said gently. “You don’t have to apologize. I know that scared you.”

You shook your head as you leaned against his chest. “He was asleep,” you tried to explain. “I closed the door on the bunk and I just went to take a shower - I didn’t mean to - ”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “He knew better than to wander off like that, especially outside.”

Din looked down at the small bundle in your arms, wrapped now in the cloak you wore.

“It was very naughty to make your mama worry like that,” Din said firmly, raising a finger for emphasis. “Don’t do that again.”

The baby gave a babble that sounded somewhat affirmative and apologetic, looking up at you with those big eyes for good measure. You were so relieved that he was alright that you couldn’t stay upset with him; you covered his ears with your cloak and held him close.

“You ought to get back inside, cyar’ika,” Din said. “Try and get warmed up.”

You looked up at him, intending to say that he should come in as well, and felt a wave of guilt that you’d only just realized how his beskar was completely frosted over. The usually shiny metal was dull and white, and you knew he had to be freezing.

“Oh, Din,” you said, reached a hand up to touch the icy side of his helmet. He took your hand in a gentle grip before you could, saving you from touching the cold metal and warming your fingers with his touch.

“Please come inside,” you said, already trying to think of ways to warm him up without any heat on the ship. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m alright,” he soothed, though you knew he was probably more uncomfortable than he let on. “I need to keep working on the repairs. You and the baby shouldn’t be out in this.”

“Neither should you,” you said. “You’re - I mean, you’re _covered_ in frost.”

He nodded. “Beskar clouds pretty quickly in the cold. It’s nothing to worry about.”

You sighed, realizing you weren’t going to get anywhere with him, but you weren’t annoyed. Since the frog lady had urged him to begin repairs sooner, he’d been single-mindedly working on the major parts of the ship that were damaged; he was going to work until he couldn’t feel his fingers any more, and then probably a little bit longer before he came inside. You admired his determination and hard work as much as you worried for him, and you wouldn't have had him any other way.

You were hesitant to leave him, but knew you should get the baby inside.

“At least kiss me before I go,” you said, knowing it was a lot to ask. “That way I can see for myself if you’re turning into an ice block under that helmet.”

He chuckled and lifted the bottom of his helmet just enough to oblige you, giving you a gentle, chaste kiss.

“There,” he said, once his helmet had been replaced. “Warm enough for you?”

You hummed in agreement. “For now.” You lightly tapped your boot against his. “Don’t stay out too long, my love.”

He shook his head. “Ne baatir, cyare.” He’d said that to you enough times over the years that you didn’t have to ask what it meant: _don’t worry, beloved._

You gave him one last smile before heading back around the ship, bundling the baby close against the temperature that had started to drop steadily as the sun went down. Minding your steps lest you stumble over a snow-covered rock or bit of debris, you noticed something odd; it looked like there were another set of footprints in the snow, bigger than either yours or Din’s. You stopped and followed them with your gaze, trying not to let fear get the better of you; they led away from the ship towards the jagged side of the cavern, around a corner that seemed to lead into a different cave.

The baby started to babble excitedly, his little clawed hand pointing in the direction of the cave. Goodness, had he followed something out here? Come to think of it, where was your passenger?

You looked back over your shoulder and saw your husband diligently working on a smoking part near the back of the ship.

“Din!” you called. You tried to make your voice carry without any indication of panic, but he looked up and zeroed in on you all the same.

He cocked his head in question, as you weren’t in any obvious danger, and you waved him over. He set his tools aside and started towards you, and you hoped you hadn’t annoyed him by interrupting his work.

“What is it?” he asked, not unkindly, and you knew he hadn’t minded coming over. You gestured to the footprints.

“Do you think it’s the frog lady?” you asked.

He studied the path of the footprints, most likely through his HUD, and sighed.

“She’s not in the ship?” he asked.

“No,” you answered. Recalling your frantic search for the baby, you realized that you hadn’t seen her anywhere. “Why would she leave?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I need to go find her. There’s no telling what’s in those caves.”

You suppressed a shudder at the thought. “Should we go with you?”

He considered that, looking over you and the baby for a moment. “I guess. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone, but - do you think you’ll be warm enough?”

You drew his cloak closer around you and your baby. “I think so. I’d feel better going with you.”

He put a hand on your back as you followed the path of the footprints, his touch steadying and safe. “Just stick close to me, cyare. Don’t wander.”

“Din,” you said, affectionate and a little exasperated. You’d been married to a bounty hunter long enough to know that right by his side was the safest place to be. “When have you ever known me to wander?”

He chuckled. “I know, I know. You’re very good about it.” He looked around as you walked through the mouth of the cave, and you knew he was making himself aware of every possible danger. 

“I don’t have any idea what to look out for,” he said honestly. You could tell how much he hated not knowing what you were up against, not being as prepared to protect you as he would have liked. 

You had never made a habit of questioning his authority - he knew much better than you how to keep you safe, and if he gave you an order in a dangerous situation, you complied. It was the least you could do, considering how often he was called on to protect his wife and child. With your marriage vows, Din had sworn to _kar'taylir bal cabuor_ , to hold you in his heart and to protect you; you had vowed your love and trust in return.

You reached out to put a hand on his arm. “I trust you, Din,” you said simply.

He nodded. “I know, cyare. Thank you.”

You stayed close to your husband's side as the cave darkened and threaded through the columns of ice that loomed on every side; it was eerily quiet except for the sound of your footsteps through the snow. Din scanned the area constantly through his HUD; you trusted him to lead you, as you couldn’t make out the footprints in the dim light. He paused for a moment at a fork in the path.

“There’s a heat signature through there,” he said, nodding to the leftmost path. You held onto the edge of his cloak, hoping to settle both of you a little, and followed as he cautiously made his way down the path.

After a bit of a tricky slope that Din offered his hand to help you over, the path opened up into a cavern that was noticeably warmer than the rest of the cave had been. Steam rose from a wide, shallow pool in the middle of the space that you guessed came from a hot spring. The frog lady was swimming in the pool, her eggs spread out around her like little jewels on the water’s surface.

“There you are,” Din said, his voice echoing around the cavern as he walked over to her. He sounded understandably frustrated; you watched as he got a sense of his surroundings and assessed any threats, undoubtedly coming to the conclusion more quickly than you had that it was too big of a space with too many shadowed corners for him to be at any sort of defensive advantage if the need arose.

“You can’t leave the ship,” he told her, rounding the pool to the side where the egg chamber sat full of liquid but without any of the eggs. “It’s not safe out here.”

You followed and knelt with him beside the pool, putting the baby between you.

“Let’s gather these up,” Din said, gesturing to the eggs bobbing in the warm water. The frog lady croaked in dismay as she cradled a few.

“I know it’s warm,” Din said, a gentle sympathy coloring his voice. He scooped up a handful of the eggs, paying no mind to wetting his gloves, and put them back in the chamber. “But night’s coming fast, and I can’t protect you out here.”

You helped take the eggs out of the water, careful of their seemingly thin protective skin; the water was delightfully warm, and you couldn’t help a fleeting wish to be swimming in it too. You handed the eggs to Din to put back into the chamber.

In your periphery, you saw your baby’s little hand inching towards an egg floating close to the edge of the pool; you and Din both noticed it at the same time, and both of you held an admonishing finger between your son and the tempting egg.

“No,” you said at the same time, in the tone you reserved for scolding. The baby looked from you to Din with a pleading expression, but Din wasn’t fazed.

“No,” he repeated firmly. He went back to gathering the eggs as the baby gave a squeak of protest, and you made a mental note to find your son something to eat when you got back to the ship.

The eggs were more slippery than you’d expected, and rounding them up took all three of you working together. You knew Din was trying to be careful and quick at the same time; being away from the ship made him wary, and there were a lot of you to protect in such a large space. You helped as best you could, holding out handfuls of eggs for him to put back into the chamber and quickly going back to gather more.

From behind you, you heard the distinctive, fearful cry of your baby; you whirled around, looking everywhere for him, and found him running over from between rows of little white eggs that seemed to be twisting in a sickly, grotesque sort of way.

You felt an icy wash of uncanny terror and needlessly called your husband’s name, abandoning the pool to rush over to your son and pick him up. You saw with a sudden wave of nauseated horror that _things_ were coming from the eggs, chittering things with long, spindly legs. You stumbled backwards and would have lost your footing if Din hadn’t caught you, immediately pulling you back towards the pool.

You couldn't have spurred yourself to move, so horrifically entranced were you by the loathsome creatures as they swarmed over the far side of the cavern floor, but you wondered why your husband didn’t seem any more inclined to action. You felt a little faint.

“Din,” you said uncertainly. You vaguely wondered how often you called your husband’s name like a plea for help, and if it ever wore on him.

“Right here,” he said, and it sounded so unlike him, so dreamy and faint, that it snapped you back to awareness like a slap in the face.

“Din,” you said again, more firmly. You turned and looked at him; he was watching the spider-like creatures start to climb the walls, his posture slack. That alone scared you badly enough to smack a hand against his chestplate in panic.

“Din!” you said again, sharp and loud. The spiders were inching closer, their chittering growing louder with each passing second - 

Your hand on his chest and the sound of your voice seemed to snap him out of it, and his whole body tensed up immediately.

“ _Kriff_ ,” he bit out, anger and panic tightening his voice even through the vocoder. He shut the canister of eggs and slung it onto his shoulder, taking your upper arm in a firm grip with his free hand.

“ _Go_ ,” he ordered, and you couldn’t have disobeyed him if you wanted to. He released you and you started to run towards the cave entrance you’d come through earlier, your baby pressed close to your chest - 

You only made it a few feet from the pool when a terrible roar shook the cavern, stopping you dead in your tracks. A giant, eldritch spider was crawling from behind the outcropping at the far side of the cavern, and it was all you could do to hold onto consciousness as you saw it take another step towards you.


	4. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning, this chapter is the spider chapter. very little dialogue because reader's inner monologue of horror says it all.

“Go, go! Back to the ship!”

Your husband appeared in front of you, beskar blocking the view of the horrific beast that gnashed its teeth and screeched loud enough to shake the icicles off the ceiling. It grounded you, seeing only him; you let him take you by the hand and pull you towards the cavern entrance. You held your baby tightly to you, his fearful cries enough to keep you focused on getting him away from that thing at any cost. 

Din pushed you in front of him, bringing up the rear as you fled the cavern now overrun with spiders. The huge, monstrous one loomed over them all, covering the distance between its cave and you in only a few steps. It snapped at Din, barely missing him as the four of you ran into the cave that led to the ship. The beast howled; the swarm of smaller spiders answered in kind and flooded the cave with their deathly shrieks.

Suddenly, the _ceiling_ was falling - you looked back over your shoulder and saw the giant spider’s legs come crashing through the ice above, raining great shards of ice and rock onto the surge of spiders below. For the moment it seemed trapped; you didn’t have time to be thankful before you saw the seething wave of spiders that followed over the rubble, some no bigger than your hand and some as large as Din.

Your husband drew his blaster as the spiders started to surround you; the red flashes of each shot that took out one spider illuminated a dozen more to take its place. You felt a wave of hysteria so strong it nearly took your breath away, and you grabbed onto Din’s cloak like a lifeline and stumbled after him as he tried to clear a path through the maze of spider-ridden ice. 

You couldn’t tell if you were hallucinating or not, but the frog lady started to leap on all fours ahead of you; Din navigated the winding cave with as much care as he could, constantly looking back to make sure you were with him. The shadow of the giant spider overhead threw the cave into near darkness, and you felt Din’s hand on your arm, pulling you in front of him. When he let you go, you called his name in panic; you saw three bright red lights in his hand, then saw him throw them back behind you.

 _Bombs_ , your woozy senses registered. Din pushed you forward before he threw the last one, grunting with effort as he ran and tossed it as far back in the chamber as he could.

The explosion blinded you, and you were pulled forward as the spider’s shriek echoed with the sound of falling ice. You almost wished the flash had lasted longer as you saw the groping, teeming piles of spiders converging from every side; you nearly smacked into Din as he came to a halt, desperately looking around for an exit. He fired a few more shots, but there seemed to be an endless swarm of them; Din held his forearm in front of him, as if bracing for a blow, and you had enough presence of mind to step back and shield the baby with your body.

The sound of his flamethrower crested as the blue flame lit on his vambrace, and suddenly the whole cave was brilliant with a roaring fire. You staggered towards the cave entrance, Din right on your heels; you heard his blaster fire almost continually as you finally came out into the cavern where your ship lay. You had never been so glad to see such a wrecked piece of metal in all your life, and sprinted towards the Crest with your son held tight against you.

You ducked inside the hull, feeling a sense of relief you knew was coming too quickly, too strongly; you watched the frog lady take her eggs from Din and haul them up to the second level. You waited for your husband to come in through the split in the siding, but he didn’t come; he fired his blaster over and over until all you heard was its ringing bark and the teeming sounds of the spiders. You knew you should go up but found yourself rooted to the spot; you had to see your husband come in, and you would not move until you did.

A loud _thunk_ against the hull, and Din gave a painful groan; another determined grunt of effort came through his modulator and was followed by another round of blaster fire. A second later, he stumbled through the split metal, followed by a steady stream of spiders.

“Go!” he told you, firing his blaster a few more times while he urged you towards the ladder. He boosted you up and followed you into the cockpit, shooting at the spiders as they swarmed up the ladder. He tried to close the cockpit doors; they strained against the limbs and bodies that struggled to get through, groaning metal against seething, sharp-toothed monsters. 

Din tried to force the doors shut with one hand and fired his blaster with the other, dagger-like legs and teeth cutting into his hands. A few spiders got through, skittering over the walls to where you stood clutching your baby to your chest; you felt a cry of terror and disgust claw at your throat as the terrible things dangled from the ceiling and crawled over the walls. 

In a sudden flash of clarity, you reached behind you to the compartment where you kept your pocket blaster; you fished it out one handed and gripped it tightly, like Din had taught you, aiming for the spiders that seemed ready to jump at you. The sound of it was tinny compared to Din’s blaster, but it did the job, splattering the spiders in bits of green slime all over the walls.

Din looked back at you, surprised at the sound of other gunfire; he only hesitated for a moment before he turned back to the doors and aimed his flamethrower through the gap, charbroiling the spiders as they tried to get through. After a few moments of the roaring fire, it seemed to finally work; the doors groaned shut and Din shut off the flamethrower, each breath panting and unsteady.

The peace only lasted for a heartbeat as hordes of spiders came rushing from the cave, scuttling over the Crest like an infestation of the broken hull. You backed away from the windshield as hundreds of spiders teemed and clicked over the glass, feeling nauseous; you felt Din behind you and reached blindly until you felt his arm, crumpling the fabric of his flight suit in your grip. 

“Strap yourselves in,” Din ordered, and you could hear the fear that colored his voice even through his modulator. He steered you to the passenger chair closest to you, a little rough in his haste, but you weren’t sure you could have done anything on your own as the spiders’ movements became so vast and so loud that it sounded like the fine debris of an asteroid field. 

You pulled the seat belt over you and the baby with shaking hands as Din turned the ship on.

“This better work,” he prayed to nobody, powering up the Crest in a way much more frantic and sloppy than you’d ever seen. His attention to the Crest was a little like that of a man to his lover, and you knew it hurt him to have to treat his beloved ship so carelessly. The ship creaked and groaned as it powered up, nursed back a feeble semblance of life by Din’s repair but by no means fully functioning.

“I’ve got limited visibility,” Din said, looking through the foggy, frost-covered glass to the chittering limbs above. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

He muscled the lever for the main thrusters, breaking through a thin sheen of ice to put it into position; the engines flared to life, bright orange flames dancing over the walls of the cavern, the familiar jerk of the ship pushing you back in your seat. With a valiant, heaving effort, the Crest gave its last bit of strength to lift itself out of the ice, rocking and shaking with exertion. You had a bright, furious surge of hope - maybe you _would_ get off this frozen planet, maybe - 

Something huge fell on the top of the Crest, the force of it knocking the wind out of you and nearly slamming you into the dash. The Crest shuddered to the ground, landing harder than it had the first time it crashed into the ice; the shrieking roar of the giant spider was so loud you covered the baby’s ears as the sound echoed through the cavern.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you said hoarsely, your little one’s cries of fear tearing at you. Then, before you knew it consciously, your body sensed _something_ \- you curled around your baby and shielded him from the monstrous silvery claw that shattered the glass and struck the floor of the cockpit.

You could only watch in abject horror as the beast loomed over the cockpit of the Crest, its grotesque eyes peering through the broken glass at you.

“Din,” you managed, and you felt his hand on your knee. You had the wrenching thought that you’d never planned what to say to your husband at the very last, perhaps hoping that your end would come a little more peacefully than this, and hoped he knew how much you loved him.

The monster reared and opened its gaping maw towards the Crest, and you _knew_ you were going to faint.

You must have blacked out for a second, dark spots dancing across your vision, and you came to woozy and shaking with terror. The monster’s jaw suctioned to the glass, its teeth raking over the only thing shielding your husband and your baby from certain death; you kissed your little one’s head and squeezed your eyes shut as you gripped Din’s hand as tightly as you could.

The sudden, unmistakable sound of laser-cannon fire filled the cavern, and your eyes flew open to see the red beams sparking where they hit the spider’s body. It howled in pain and landed heavily on the cockpit, sliding off the side as the cannons continued to fire. Din let go of your hand - you looked up at him, out of your mind with fear and confusion, and watched him unholster his blaster and open the cockpit doors.

“Wait, Din,” you called, your voice cracked and pitiful. The baby called after him too, but he didn’t turn back to you, and you had the awful feeling that watching him stride out of the broken cockpit would be the last you ever saw of him. Everything was washed in red light as the laser cannons fired continuously; then, suddenly, they stopped, and everything was deathly quiet.

“We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest,” a voice finally said, and it wasn’t your husband’s. You hastily unbuckled yourself and moved to look out through the glass; the baby watched too, giving a wondering coo at the scene below.

Eight-legged bodies littered the ground, oozing green fluid onto the murky grey snow. The same pair of X-Wings that had chased you onto this frozen rock were a few paces away, their pilots aiming their blasters towards the Crest’s smoking hull; Din stood in the beams of their headlights, blaster lowered cautiously in the way that told you he wouldn't hesitate to raise it again at a moment’s notice.

“You have an arrest warrant,” the pilot continued. You recognized him as the same one who’d asked for your beacon at the checkpoint. “A warrant for the abduction of prisoner X-6-9-11.”

That cursed Twi’lek, who’d been more trouble than he was worth from the first moment Din had set foot on that transport ship. You held your breath and waited for the pilot to continue.

“However, onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the wanted register,” the pilot said. “Security records also show that you put your own life in harm’s way to try to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps. Is this true?”

Din holstered his blaster. “Am I under arrest?” he asked, exhaustion and resignation in his voice even as he refused to confirm or deny the truth about Lieutenant Davan.

“Technically, you should be,” the pilot answered. Then, after a moment, “but these are trying times.”

Din took a breath. “What say I forgo the bounties on these three criminals, and you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?”

You knew it was a long shot, but it was better than not asking at all. Maybe you would finally have a stroke of luck in all this.

The pilots didn’t take kindly to his offer. “What say you fix that transponder, and we don’t vaporize that antique the next time we patrol the Rim?”

Without waiting for an answer, the pilots returned to their cockpits; a moment later, with the sound of their engines echoing through the cavern, they had left Din, the wreckage of his ship, and the passengers they hadn’t even known about to whatever thread of fate might occur on such a frozen, unforgiving planet.


	5. Healing of the Spirit

You needed to be near to your husband.

Maybe it was the set of his shoulders as he stood out in the snow, looking towards the place where the X-Wings had gone; maybe it was the way you still felt his hand in yours, squeezing tight like it was the last way he’d ever tell you he loved you. You stepped carefully over the broken glass and crushed metal to get through the cockpit doors, one hand carrying your baby, the other carrying your blaster. The little silver thing shook in your hand as you held it in front of you, and you desperately hoped you wouldn’t need to fire it.

You came down the ladder and had to stifle a sob at the sight that met you.

Gruesome, disfigured spider bodies tangled with cords and wires on the floor; long, stringy webs shone on every surface from floor to ceiling. The floor was slick with ice and slime and webbing; some limbs still twitched where they lay, their faint clicking making you shudder with revulsion. You nursed a low whine of disgust and fear at the hateful things as you stepped over them, webs catching in your hair, your skin crawling with the thought of them. Your shoulders tensed with every sound, every faint sign of fading life from the things that had infested your home.

You wanted to take a gasping breath of fresh air when you stepped through the web-covered break in the siding, but the wretched spiders were _everywhere_ , the acrid smell of the green fluid mixing with the exhaust from the Crest’s smoking thrusters. The body of the giant one was collapsed over the top of the Crest, its legs seeming to swallow the ship like it wanted to pull it deep into the ice with it as it decayed. 

You heard something scuttle across the rubble and swung your blaster around to aim at it, but before you even spotted it, it was reduced to a heap of ash by a shot from behind you.

You stood looking at it for too long, watching the way the smoke curled up towards the cavern ceiling; you jumped and let out a choked sob when you felt Din’s hand on your shoulder.

“Just me,” he said, like he was afraid to spook you. He put a hand on your wrist and eased the blaster down; he gently pried it from your fingers and holstered it on his own belt. 

“Easy, cyar’ika,” he said softly, pulling you towards him. You gave a pathetic whimper and leaned into him, felt his hand move to your back to hold you securely against him. Your chin quivered with sickness and emotion, and you weren’t sure if you were going to be sick or burst into tears.

Your baby gave a quiet coo, and your body made the decision for you as you finally started to cry. You leaned completely against your husband as sobs wracked your body, every bit of fear and hurt and tension shredding through you until you were so overwhelmed by it you couldn’t catch your breath. Din gently eased the baby from your arms and urged you to try and take a breath.

“Ok, cyare,” he soothed, deep worry coloring his voice. “Breathe for me, love. Try and take a deep breath.”

You sucked in a greedy, hitching breath, pressing your hands to your face, trying to tether yourself to _something_ \- you felt your whole body had gone numb, and you couldn’t breathe - 

Din took one of your hands in his and held tightly, like he had in the cockpit, and suddenly your breath caught on a groaning sob like the sound of purest grief. Gasping moans tumbled from you, and it seemed like you’d never stop. You wanted this to be over. You wanted to be home. You didn’t want your home to be a pile of rubble underneath a giant, lifeless monster.

“Din, I can’t - ” you sobbed, “I don’t want - I can’t - ”

“I know,” he said, and the grief in his voice matched yours even if he couldn’t give himself over to it like you were. “I know, cyare. It’s ok. Just breathe for me.”

He stood patiently with you, letting you hold onto him, murmuring words of comfort in Basic and Mando’a until you’d finally worn yourself out with crying. You scrubbed at your hot, tear-streaked face, your shoulders hitching with your stuttering breaths, dizzy and tired and more run-down than you’d ever been in your life.

“That’s it,” Din said gently. “Deep breaths.” He grunted a little as you hugged him tightly, trying to be as close to him as you could.

He ran a soothing hand up and down your back. “You’re ok, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”

“Sorry,” you said miserably, his chestplate cool against your burning cheeks. You’d wasted valuable time breaking to bits like that, out here where you were most vulnerable to attack. You couldn’t imagine keeping a hold of yourself like Din was, and wished you could be stronger.

“No, cyare,” he said, kind and yet firm. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You... we’ve suffered a great deal of fear and loss. You don’t have to apologize for feeling that.”

He tucked you protectively against him, one arm wrapped around you and the other holding your son. He gave a heavy sigh and rested his helm against your head.

“Mandalorians have a word - _mirjahaal_ ,” he said. “It means peace, or healing of the spirit. You say it to people who’ve suffered a loss or gone through something traumatic.”

“Mirjahaal,” you repeated. You had always loved the way Mandalorian words sounded, and held on to the way this word sounded strong and gentle at the same time.

Din hummed in agreement. “You can’t heal unless you feel the wound, cyar’ika,” he said gently. “And there’s no shame in being wounded.”

You let your husband hold you and offered your hand to your baby; he took your pinkie in a gentle grasp and cooed at you. There, with your little family held close in the protective circle of Din’s arms, you felt a little less of the terrible weight that had settled on your heart.

“Mirjahaal,” you said again, softly. You didn’t know how, but you felt things _must_ get better; you would heal, and so would your family. You would be safe and have an abundance of peace. You knew you would.

You looked up at Din’s visor. “I love you.”

He gently touched his helmet to your head. “I love you too.” His grip tightened on your waist, and you lightly kissed the bottom of his helmet.

“We’re all safe, cyare,” he said, and you knew it was to remind himself as well as you. “We’ll find a way out of this, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly; the baby gave a quiet, happy babble.

Din’s laugh was wobbly through his vocoder. “I love you too,” he said, cradling his son closer to his chest. “You were very brave with mama, weren’t you, verd’ika?”

You smiled at the nickname, “little soldier” in Mando’a. His grip on your finger was strong, and you felt a wash of gratitude that he hadn’t been hurt. You didn’t know what you would have done if either he or Din had been injured, and felt profound relief that they were both safe.

“Come on,” you said, pulling away from Din just enough to take his hand in yours. “Let’s try and fix our home.”

Din let you keep your hold on him as you ducked back inside the Crest; you were thankful for his strength and steadiness as you took in the state of the ship with a clearer mind. It looked more hopeless than it ever had, a mere shadow of the safe, familiar fortress it had always been for your little family. 

“Haar’chak,” Din swore quietly. “This is... the worst I’ve ever seen her.”

You gave his hand a comforting squeeze. 

“We’ll fix her, Din,” you said, trying for confidence. You slipped your hand from his to reach down and pick up a box, saw a severed spider leg leaning against it, and bit your tongue to keep from yelling every curse word you’d ever learned from your husband.

You crossed your arms over your chest lest you be tempted to tidy anything else before the spiders were gone.

“I know it looks bad,” you said. “But we can handle it. We’ve...” You trailed off, your gaze snagging on the webs sticking from the ceiling to Din’s armor, and wondered fleetingly how covered you must be in the sticky residue.

He cocked his head at you. “What?”

“You’re just... covered in webs,” you said. He looked up and turned his head slightly, making the threads billow with his movement.

He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll have to scrub my beskar for a week to get everything off of it.” He gestured to you. “At least I have armor - you’re covered in it too.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Yes, I know I don’t have armor on, dearest. Thank you.”

His huff of a laugh was cut short, and you could tell by the sudden stiffness of his posture that something was wrong.

“What?” you asked, trying to tamp down the panic rising in your chest.

He held out a hand, like he might do to steady a skittish Fathier that could buck at any moment.

“Don’t freak out,” he said in a purposefully calm voice. Your baby was watching you with wide eyes, cooing with interest; all of a sudden you _knew_ what it was, and your shoulders tensed with utter revulsion.

“Oh, _kriff_ \- get it off, Din, get it off, get it off,” you pleaded, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt a little scurrying movement on your shoulder and heard a tiny chitter, and you really and truly _whined_ at the thought of the horrible thing on you.

You felt Din’s hand swipe your shoulder, then heard a single blaster shot. You jumped and opened your eyes to see a scorch mark on the floor as Din holstered his blaster at his hip.

“It was that big?” you asked in dismay. You’d assumed he would just bat it away and step on it, but if it had been big enough to _shoot_ at - 

“No,” he said. “But I didn’t want any more spider guts on my boots.”

You ran to him and put your arms around his waist, feeling your skin crawl. 

“It’s gone, cyare,” he said, though you knew he didn’t mind the hug. 

You shuddered. “I don’t care. I’m staying right here with you, forever.”

He chuckled. “Okay.” 

Your baby gave you a happy coo, delighted to see you so close to him as he leaned contentedly against his father’s chest, and you gave him a little smile.

“I love you, my little darling,” you said quietly, just for him to hear. He babbled and brushed his claws through your hair with intentional gentleness.

“Yes, nice pets,” Din said, like he had when teaching the baby to pet the Tusken Massiffs. “Be gentle with mama’s hair.”

You couldn’t help a laugh, but were reminded of the thing that had just been in your hair a second ago.

“See if there are any more on me,” you said, dreading the possibility.

Din leaned forward a little to check your back. “No, you’re fine.” He pulled a few strings of webs from your hair. “Have you ever considered shaving your head?”

You looked up at him. “It’s that bad?”

He considered the lock of your hair tangled in his fingers. “It’s... going to take a lot of dedicated brushing, I think.” He looked back down at you. “Not that I would know. Perks of an extremely religious upbringing.”

You gave him a wry smile and found yourself very relieved and comforted that your husband was joking with you.

“Thank you for slaying the beast,” you said. “All of them.”

“My pleasure, cyar’ika.”

He looked around at the interior of the ship, a low sigh coming through his modulator. “The only way I can think to get us out of here is to just fix the cockpit. There’s no way I can make enough of a repair of the hull to make it usable.”

You thought of the damage the cockpit had sustained and felt its repair alone was an ambitious goal; with the state of the Crest and your limited knowledge of mechanics, you agreed with his assessment that the majority of the ship would be nothing more than scrap metal until you could get it to a shop.

“We’ll get it fixed, Din,” you said. “Surely there’s someone on Trask who can help.”

He nodded. “I hope so. I’d really like to take it to Peli, but we can’t make it to Tatooine before we do some patchwork.”

You thought fondly of the short, curly-haired mechanic who’d become as good a friend to you and Din as any you’d found on your travels through the galaxy. If she and her droids were here, Din would have the Crest as good as new in short order, and your baby would have the company of one of the many people he’d charmed within the first few moments of meeting them.

“Though I should thank her for getting me into this mess,” Din said, an edge of uncharacteristic surliness to his voice. You knew he was just tired and overwhelmed, and tried to be kind when you responded.

“It’s not Peli’s fault that we’re here, my love,” you said gently, pulling a few threads of webbing from his pauldron. “She wanted to help a friend, and really, we owed her for helping us find someone to take us to the other Mandalorians.”

He gave a resigned huff. “Somebody to take us to the Mandalorians won’t do us much good if we don’t get off this kriffing planet.”

“Well, good thing we are getting off this planet,” you said. You looked up at him without judgement, but you wanted him to know you weren’t going to indulge his grumbling.

He sighed, and you saw how his shoulders slumped a little.

“You’re right,” he said, weary. “Sorry. I’m just...”

You would have kissed his helmet, but it was so covered in webs that you settled for tapping it gently where you knew his mouth was.

“I know,” you assured him gently. “And you don’t have to be all sunshine and starbursts for me, you know that. But if you start doing down the path of doom and gloom, we both know I won’t be far behind.”

He breathed a laugh. “Can’t have that, can we?” he asked. Then, very tenderly, “Thank you for keeping my head on straight, ner kar’ta. I couldn’t do this without you.”

You beamed at that; he only ever called you ‘my heart’ when he was very pleased and proud of you, and you were happy that what little help you could offer in the grand scheme of things had been that important to him.

“You won’t ever have to,” you reminded him. “I mean, I’ve stuck with you through a giant spider attack. There’s really not much worse you could throw at me.”

He gave a wry hum of agreement. “No, I guess not.” He looked around at the tangled spider bodies that had begun to close in on themselves, and you knew him well enough to know he was grimacing under the helm.

“They are pretty awful, aren’t they?” he asked. “I’ve dealt with some questionable creatures before, but I think these take the uj'alayi.”

Just the mention of the dense, sweet Mandalorian cake was enough to make you start daydreaming about it. “I could go for some uj'alayi right now,” you said dreamily.

He chuckled. “When we get the Crest back on her feet, I’ll make you some,” he promised. “But for now, I guess we can eat our fill of roasted spider.”

He waggled his fingers towards you in imitation of the creepy things, and you batted his hand away with a laugh.

“That’s disgusting,” you said, and he laughed too. “I’d rather share the frog eggs with the baby if it came down to it.”

Din tried to muffle a laugh but it ended up just sounding kind of strangled, and not a second later did you hear the quiet croak of the frog lady from behind you. You looked wide-eyed at Din, struck with sudden embarrassment like a youngling talking about someone behind their back on the playground, and he merely cocked his head at you. You knew he was trying not to laugh under his helmet, and you gave him a petulant shove against his chestplate.

“Good thing we have some rations left, right, cyare?” he said, intending to be overheard.

You tried for a withering look but couldn’t quite manage it; his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter and you couldn't help a grudging smile at how his mood had improved.

“I’m so getting you back for that,” you said in a low voice.

You knew he was smiling at you; you could always tell with Din.

“I’ll be on my guard, cyar’ika,” he said amusedly, assuring you he was looking forward to whatever you’d cook up to get back at him with. You felt a brief, hesitant desire for your husband, something you were sure would have burned much brighter if your circumstances had not been so dire. You hoped that once you got out of this mess, you could take a breather of sorts - maybe drop the baby off with Cara and go back to Naboo for a long weekend in the sun. 

The thought of your home planet’s warmth only made you feel the cold of this planet more sharply, and you allowed yourself a little sigh as you were brought back to the reality of your situation.

“Alright,” Din said to both you and the frog lady, and you knew he’d felt the end of your short reprieve as well. “I’m gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask. There’s nothing I can do about the main hull’s integrity, so we’re gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit. It’s the only thing I can pressurize.”

You’d never minded being in the cockpit before, but you’d also always had the option of roaming the ship. You idly wondered how long it would take to get to Trask, considering lightspeed was out of the question, and began to mentally prepare yourself for a lengthy trip with a toddler who wasn’t used to being so cooped up.

“If you need to use the privy, do it now,” Din suggested. “It’s gonna be a long ride.”

He handed the baby over to you, and your son gave only a slight coo of protest before he snuggled into your arms. You wished you had somewhere to take him to let him run around for a bit before you settled in the cockpit, but there wasn’t a single place in or around the ship that wasn’t in smoking ruin or littered with spiders.

Come to think of it, there really wasn’t any place for _you_ to go. You looked up at Din.

“Can we stay with you while you work?” you asked.

He shrugged. “If you want to. It won’t be very entertaining.”

You gave a tired wave of your hand. “Fine by me.” Dozing in the passenger seat while Din worked on the repairs seemed luxurious compared to the events of the past few days.

You turned to the frog lady, intending to ask if she’d like to come up with you, but she had set herself to the task of gathering the smaller spider bodies and tossing them outside. You cringed as a limb broke off one when she picked it up, but as much as you had all disliked them when they were alive, they didn’t seem to faze her now that they were dead.

Din stepped forward as she put her weight into dragging a larger one towards the split in the hull, his body language tight with almost comical unease.

“You don’t have to - ” he started, but she gave a dismissive croak and muscled the spider across the floor. Both you and Din reacted with wincing aversion, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Ok then,” your husband said quickly, clearly content to let her continue if she wished and unwilling to continue watching her do it. He steered you towards the ladder. “We’ll be up in the cockpit if you need anything.”

Like he always did when you went up the ladder with the baby in hand, Din let you go first and hovered protectively to catch you if you slipped. You never had, but you didn’t mind indulging that particular habit for the sake of his nerves. You actually appreciated it then, with webs and slime covering each rung - Din’s hand on your thigh was steadying as you fought to overcome your reluctance to keep a firm grip on the sticky ladder.

The cockpit was covered in webs too, and Din kindly swept them from your seat before he started pulling them from the instrument panel. You felt a little guilty as you sank into your chair, watching him set to work - you were achy with exhaustion, and you knew that for all his armor, he’d gotten battered and bruised in the fight with the spiders and was running on only a few hours of broken sleep. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you offered. You didn't know the first thing about mechanics, but maybe there was something you could do for him.

His chuckle was affectionate. “No, cyare, that’s ok,” he said gently. “You rest.”

Before he hunkered down to work on the dash, he unscrewed the little silver handle from the gear shift and dropped it into your son’s outstretched hand.

“Be good and play quietly,” Din said to the baby. “Let mama rest.”

The baby cooed in agreement, settling in your lap and turning the ball over in his hands. Din gave your knee a slightly distracted but affectionate pat as he knelt in front of the instrument panel, fishing through the toolbox to find what he needed.

You leaned your elbow on the dash and watched for a few moments; there was something soothing about the way Din was so methodical in caring for his ship. You’d sat with him during repairs or routine maintenance countless times while you were courting; he’d let you chatter away about anything and everything while he worked, occasionally asking a thoughtful question or laughing at a funny memory you recounted. You’d fallen in love with him while he worked on the Crest, and you rested in that love now as he worked diligently to keep you and your baby safe. 

“I’m gonna fall asleep,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against your propped-up arm. Your exhaustion was finally catching up to you now that the adrenaline had faded, and your eyes fluttered shut as your head nodded a little.

You heard him turn towards you. “You don’t look that comfortable, cyar’ika.”

You gave a light shug, re-settling your arm around the baby. “Take me somewhere with a huge, Varactyl feather bed when you get the ship fixed.”

He chuckled. “Okay,” he agreed. “Do you want me to take the baby from you?”

“Only...” You yawned. “Only if he looks like he’s going to fall off my lap.”

You felt him run his knuckles lightly over your shin. “Goodnight, cyare.”

You nodded, feeling yourself fade fast, knowing you were safe and taken care of. “‘Night. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said. You heard the soft whir of one of his tools start up again, and moments later, you drifted off into a dearly needed sleep.


	6. Lucky Stars

It was the cold that woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open as an involuntary shiver went through you. It was dark, and for a moment you were too dazed to tell where you were. You sat up a little too quickly; you winced at the bone-deep ache you felt and tried to get your bearings.

“Cyare?”

Din’s voice soothed you as soon as you heard it, and you remembered with a resigned sort of clarity that you’d fallen asleep while he worked on the cockpit.

“Yeah,” you said. You were surprised that your teeth chattered, and drew your cloak together around you. You noticed your son wasn’t sitting on your lap any more, and tried to make him out in the dim light.

“You have the baby?” you asked, your breath turning into vapor in front of you.

Din hummed in agreement. You thought you saw the gleam of beskar, but you couldn’t really tell the dark shapes apart on the cockpit floor.

You nudged your boot at one of the shapes. “Where are you?”

“Under the dash,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. 

“I can’t see you,” you said. You heard a soft grunt when your boot met something hard.

“Well, you found my ribcage,” he said. “Don’t step on me if you get up.”

You laughed a little. “Sorry. I’ll try not to.”

You leaned forward in your seat, ducking your head to look under the dash that had been completely covered with a dull layer of frost. Now that you knew where he was, you could make out that he was lying on his back to work on the wiring on the underside of the instrument panel. Only his head and shoulders fit in the space, and the rest of him was laid out on the cockpit floor.

“What about you, ad’ika?” you called to your baby. “Where are you?”

You heard his soft coo from under the dash.

“Din, he’s under there with you?” you asked, a little uneasy at the thought. You heard the spark of frayed wires and didn’t feel any more confident.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Din assured you. “I’m not letting him get into anything.”

You gave a dubious frown, but realistically you knew Din would never put the baby in any danger. Even if hot-wiring a spaceship wasn’t your idea of a great activity for a toddler, you weren’t concerned enough to argue.

You rolled your shoulders a little, trying to ease the feeling of having slept in a cold, uncomfortable cockpit. “How’s the repair coming?”

You heard your husband sigh. “It’s coming,” he said. “Still have a ways to go. This is the last thing to do inside, but I have some work to do on the outside too.”

You winced at the thought of going out into the cold. While the Crest wasn’t exactly a sauna at the moment, it did protect you from the wind and snowfall, and you wished Din didn’t have to go out in it.

With a soft groan at trying to get your cold muscles moving again, you laid yourself on the floor next to Din and propped yourself up on his chest, one of your legs going between his. Your knee accidentally nudged his codpiece and he gave a slightly disgruntled noise.

“Can’t tell if that was supposed to be nice or not, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer nice.”

You breathed a laugh and patted his torso affectionately. “I know you would, lover. I didn't mean to knee you, sorry.”

“Hm. Why are you down here, anyway?” He didn’t say _why are you laying on top of me while I’m trying to work,_ because he was far too sweet to say something like that, but you got the message anyway.

You rested your head against his chestplate. “Thought I’d keep you company.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, a brief slew of sparks lighting up the space where he was working; you heard the baby give an excited babble at the lights.

“Well, as much as I like laying with you, I’m finished under here,” he said. He made to push himself out from under the dash, but you put a hand on his chest to still him.

“Wait, just one more minute,” you said. It wasn’t comfortable lying all tangled up with him on the cockpit floor by any means, but you sort of liked it. 

You felt him relax a little and breathe a laugh. “I’m halfway under the panel, cyare. Not exactly in a good place to romance you that well.”

“Mm, but you’re warm,” you said. Underneath his frosted beskar, you could feel his body heat through his flight suit. “Can we take a vacation after this?”

“Like where?”

You shrugged. “Maybe go back to Naboo. See the lake country.”

He sighed and ran his hand over your back. “Sure, cyar’ika. I’ll take you wherever you want.”

You stayed on top of him for a few more minutes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, hugging him tighter when you felt him shudder with cold. Eventually, you disentangled yourself and offered him a hand once he’d come out from underneath the panel, your little son in tow.

“Go see mama,” Din said, handing him to you. He was still holding his little ball, and the three of you sat on the cockpit floor in companionable silence for a moment.

“How was your nap?” Din asked you. You ran your fingers along the edge of his visor, trying to break up some of the frost.

“Good,” you said. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

He nodded. “Do you remember what you dreamed about?”

You frowned a little; as attentive as your husband was, that question seemed a little whimsical for his tastes.

“I don’t think I dreamed at all,” you said. “Why?”

He shrugged. “You looked a little like you were having a nightmare, at one point. I thought about waking you, but before I decided, you’d settled back down. I just wondered if you remembered it. I’m glad you don’t.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” You leaned your head forward, and he obliged you with a gentle headbutt.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to sleep,” you said.

He cleared his throat; he sounded congested and tired and very cold.

“I’ll sleep on the way to Trask,” he said. “Don’t worry about me, cyare.”

He touched a gloved hand to your cheek before he stood, offering you a hand to help you up off the floor. He stretched his back, and you heard a familiar crack followed by a small sigh through his vocoder.

“I’m gonna get started on the outside,” he said. “Your son probably needs something to eat.”

You went through your mental catalog of what you had in your pantry that could have survived everything. Not much, but it would have to do.

“Do you want anything?” you asked.

He shook his head. “No, thank you.” He leaned down to pick up his toolbox. “Knock on the glass if you need anything.”

He left to go to the outside of the cockpit, and you heard him speak briefly to the frog lady and give her an update about the repairs as you and the baby ventured towards the storage room. Your hand hovered over the button to open the door, and you couldn’t remember if it had been closed earlier. 

You leaned over the ladder and tried to see if your husband was still downstairs. “Din?”

You heard his familiar tread come across the floor; he appeared at the bottom of the ladder and looked up at you.

“What do you need?”

You gave him an apologetic grimace. “Could you do me a huge favor, because you love me?”

He huffed a laugh. “Sure. What is it?”

You looked back at the storage room door. “I need you to make sure there’s no spiders in the storage room.”

He set his toolbox on the ground and came back up the ladder. “Stay here.”

You and the baby watched as Din pushed the button to open the door, hand resting on his blaster; he tapped the side of his helmet to activate the HUD and looked around.

“I think it’s ok,” he said, turning back to you. “I don’t see any - ah, kriff, hang on.”

He drew his blaster and fired up above the door; the lifeless body of the spider about the size of a dinner plate fell with a thunk on the floor. You winced and the baby cooed with interest.

Din kept his blaster up as he scanned the room again, and after a few moments, he seemed satisfied that it was just the one. He holstered his blaster and tapped the HUD off as he came back over to you.

“Good to go,” he said. Then, sensing your hesitation, he inclined his head to you. “I promise, cyar’ika. I did a full scan. I didn’t see any more.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Sorry you keep having to do... everything.”

“Well, what are husbands for?” he said sweetly. 

You wondered how many more times you’d need to ask him for a favor on top of everything else he was doing. You had never felt yourself a burden to him before - you were his partner, and you carried your share of the responsibilities in your marriage and in parenting. You trusted him to protect you and provide for your family, and he had always done so with a very selfless love; but these past few days had driven you to true dependence on him, and for the first time, you felt a weight of guilt settle on your shoulders. 

“Hey, cyare?” he said gently. You looked up at him.

He lightly tapped your nose, and you were so pleasantly surprised by the silly little gesture of affection that you giggled like a schoolgirl. His chuckle was warm through his modulator, and you knew that if he didn’t have the helmet on, you’d see a very warm smile on his face.

“I love you very much,” he said. “And I’m honored to be the one you chose to take care of you. You could have had anybody in the galaxy, and you decided on me, and I thank the jate'kara for that every day.”

Mandalorians had a concept of good or lucky stars that steered one’s fate, and Din had always made a habit of telling you his jate'kara were the best ones in the galaxy because they had led him to you. Your smile was a little wobbly as he cupped your face, and you leaned into his touch.

“I could not ask for a better fate than to serve you until my dying day,” he said gently. “You and our son are everything to me, and if I had to build this ship from scratch for you, I would.”

He gently tweaked your cheek. “And if I have to come up and take care of more spiders for you, I will.”

You gave a soft laugh and touched your fingers to your lips, then to the bottom of his visor. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He brushed his thumb over your cheek and comforted you for a few moments before he turned to go. 

“The repairs on the outside should be pretty straightforward,” he said. “I’ve already done all the wiring inside, so all that’s left to do is a patch repair that will let the cockpit pressurize before we hit the atmosphere.”

His gaze was steady, and you rested in his silent assurance that everything would be alright.

“Not long now, cyar’ika,” he said. “I promise.”

He rubbed the tip of the baby’s ear gently between his fingers. “Be good for mama.”

The baby cooed at him, and both of you watched as Din went back down the ladder to get to work. You carefully stepped over the body of the spider in the doorway; your son wriggled to be set down, thinking the spider to be an interesting toy, and you bounced him on your hip to soothe him.

“I know,” you said in a sing-song voice. “You’re not having the best time either, are you?”

He chewed slightly on the silver ball while you rummaged through the cabinets and shelves for something for him to snack on.

“Maybe when we get to Trask, we can convince daddy to let us eat dessert for a whole day.”

He babbled happily, perhaps at the thought of a whole day of sweet treats, and you smiled.

“Your daddy would go crazy,” you said. Din only liked sweet foods when he was in a particular mood for them, but you and the baby would happily eat dessert for every meal. 

You found a stray packet of portion bread powder and mixed it with the little bit of water you could coax from the faucet. The baby made grabby hands towards it as it expanded into a small loaf of bread, and you tore off a piece for both of you. It was no Five Blossom Bread like the kind you’d learned to make from your mother in your childhood, but it would do for now, and you and the baby ate contentedly in the quiet of the storage room.

Your baby yawned when he finished his snack, one hand curled around his silver ball and the other grabbing a tiny fistful of your shirt as he leaned against your chest. You tucked the edge of your cloak around him and kissed his soft head.

“Should we go see what daddy’s working on?” you asked quietly. He gave a drowsy coo at the mention of his father, fighting sleep; you rocked him gently as you made your way back to the cockpit.

You could make out Din’s figure through the frosty glass, kneeling on the lip of the windshield to repair the seam between the metal and the glass. Sparks flew from the welding gun, reflecting on his beskar that looked densely covered in frost. A gentle snow fell and dusted his shoulders, and it almost would have been a pretty thing if you weren’t so desperately cold. You hoped Din was warm enough.

You knocked on the glass, but only to say hello; you gave him a small wave and a smile, and he cocked his head a little and waved back. You stood and rocked your baby as he fell asleep, watching your husband work and humming a lullaby that turned into little clouds of vapor with each breath.

Sooner than you’d expected, Din came back in and helped the frog lady bring her eggs up to the cockpit. When she was settled, the canister securely in her lap, he turned to you. He helped you put the seatbelt over your lap, careful not to wake the baby; his gaze lingered as he straightened, and he brushed a gentle finger over his son’s head.

“Okay,” he said, to both you and the frog lady as he took the pilot’s chair and started turning everything on. “Repair’s all done. Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.”

The familiar sound of the Crest’s power-up sequence was a welcome bit of comfort, and you fervently hoped that everything went smoothly. If this didn’t work...

You took a deep breath as Din put a hand to the thrust lever. This was _going_ to work. If Din couldn’t get the Crest to work, no one could. He eased the lever back and the engines roared to life.

The Crest rattled and shook like a thing possessed, but it _did_ rise out of the ice, the metal groaning with the effort. The legs of the giant spider slid off in a final, terrible release of the ship it had damaged so thoroughly; the engines stuttered but stayed aloft as the right thruster knocked against the overhanging ice. Din eased the ship up through hole in the cavern’s ceiling as gracefully as he could, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, you were leaving the frozen planet. You gave a sigh of relief when the ship made it through the atmosphere and into the almost comforting expanse of space.

Din looked back at you, and you couldn’t help but give him a beaming grin.

“We made it,” he said, and you realized just how afraid he’d been that you wouldn’t. You reached out for his hand and he took it, holding tightly.

“I love you,” you said. “And I’m so proud of you.”

He touched his other hand to the bottom of his visor. “I’m proud of you too, ner kar’ta.” He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Let’s go somewhere warm, hm?”

You laughed, relief and happiness bubbling from you like a bottle of Daruvvian champagne. 

“I’ll go anywhere you want to,” you said. Your ship was barely limping along, and both of you were tired and hungry and cold, but you were together, and safe, and off that frozen rock. You’d never felt more delighted in your life.

He released your hand with a little bit of reluctance as he set the course for Trask, and you felt a rush of happiness for your passenger that she would soon be reunited with her husband. You didn’t know what you would have done without yours by your side through this ordeal, and hoped you would never have to be separated from Din like the frog lady had been separated from her mate. She kept a loving hand over the canister of eggs in her lap, and you held your baby a little closer too.

“Wake me up if someone shoots at us,” Din said. “Or if that door gets sucked off its rails.”

The frog lady gave a concerned croak, unfamiliar with your husband’s dry humor.

“Din,” you scolded gently. He laughed a little and turned to face her.

“I’m kidding,” he assured her. It seemed he couldn’t resist one more joke, though. “If that happened, we’d all be dead.”

You rolled your eyes, affectionately exasperated. You saw him cross his arms over his chest and lean his head back against the headrest.

“Sweet dreams,” he said. You knew he’d be out like a light, and the frog lady settled herself to sleep too, resting her head on the top of the canister.

You curled up as best you could in your seat, gently shushing your baby as he had begun to stir at his father’s voice. You rocked him and brushed your fingers over his ear; you listened to the humming of the engines and the sound of Din’s slowly deepening breaths like a lullaby. You still had a long trip ahead of you, but the worst was over, and you rested in that as your husband and baby slept peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's a wrap! i really enjoyed writing this, and i hope you enjoyed reading it. i've never written anything this long this quickly and actually finished it, which just goes to show how great our beloved din djarin is at fostering very detailed daydreams about what it would be like to be married to him. i'm thinking about writing an epilogue for this, where they actually do get to go on vacation on naboo for a little bit, so we'll see how it goes! to every single reader, i love you! thank you for letting me share my little imaginary world with you! ♡

**Author's Note:**

> as always, come see my on my tumblr, @javi-djarins ♡


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